


Unsafe + Undernourished = Unfit

by violetvaria



Series: Stable AU [7]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Discussion of Adoption, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Handwavy Science, Hugging, Social Worker, Stable AU, dad!Jack, minor accidental injury, physical affection, teen!Mac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22301047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetvaria/pseuds/violetvaria
Summary: What if Mac was fidgeting in there when Ms. Sparrows asked him questions? She would probably take that as a sign he was lying. And between the newest injury, the minimal weight gain, and whatever else she could think up…Maybe she’d take Mac away from him.Or: It already isn't their best day, and then Jack and Mac receive a surprise visit from their social worker.Chapter 2 added: Ms. Sparrows performs another surprise inspection, this time at their home. Jack and Mac have bad timing with their social worker.~~~set in dickgrysvn's Stablehands + Stable Homes AU and alongside slightly_ajar's Stable AU
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Series: Stable AU [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1270502
Comments: 69
Kudos: 71
Collections: Stable_AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Stablehands + Stable Homes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294171) by [dickgrysvn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickgrysvn/pseuds/dickgrysvn). 

> With thanks, as always, to the extraordinary dickgrysvn for creating and sharing this wonderful AU! Reading [**Stablehands + Stable Homes**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294171) is necessary before anything else in this universe. Thanks also to the brilliant slightly_ajar for being my Stableverse buddy!
> 
> Massive love to the exquisite impossiblepluto, who sparked this idea in a comment on Ask Me No Questions, I'll Tell You No Lies: "I also wonder if Jack has concerns that they might think he's unfit as a guardian if Mac doesn't gain weight. Not that he would ever mention that to Mac, but Mac's a smart kid."
> 
> This is, of course, pre-adoption, set after Completely + Forever + No Matter What, Ground Rules, and Ask Me No Questions, I'll Tell You No Lies. If you have read the remarkable [**Stablehands + Stable Homes**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294171) and are familiar with the universe, it is not strictly necessary to have read the rest of the series to understand this story. The entire timeline is available in the [**Stable_AU collection**](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Stable_AU).
> 
> WARNINGS: minor accidental injury (Mac trips), implications that Jack could be falsely accused of abuse, almost unnoticeable references to James as an abusive parent, anxiety (not especially excessive for the situation)

Mac had been in with Ms. Sparrows too long.

Jack twitched nervously, immediately trying to level his body language so as not to disturb the horse he was currently exercising. Crosby had only started boarding at Dalton Stables two weeks ago and was still a bit skittish.

But it really shouldn’t be taking this long. Jack stared at his closed office door as if that would make his soon-to-be son reappear.

Hopefully his son. Unless Ms. Sparrows decided…

He couldn’t think like that. Everything would be fine.

In theory, Jack understood the purpose behind the surprise visits from their social worker. He would want to make sure Mac was in the best possible environment too. And considering their long hours, it made sense that her first stop would be while they were working at the stable. Jack couldn’t hold that against her.

If only Mac hadn’t chosen today of all days to trip over a hay bale and fall face-first onto a feed bucket. The kid had brushed it off, naturally, hadn’t even made a sound—Jack wouldn’t have known if Pepper hadn’t started nervously whinnying. He made a mental note to reward her with an extra treat later.

So Ms. Sparrows had definitely not caught them at their best moment: Jack scolding the kid for not saying anything while fussing over him, Mac managing to look ashamed of himself while also trying to push Jack’s hands away, and—worst of all—the rapidly swelling bright red skin around Mac’s eye. Jack tried to be thankful there was no bleeding, but he didn’t really think that could have made things worse when their social worker walked in, clearing her throat to interrupt their argument.

She’d remained expressionless, as usual, as she greeted them and announced the reason for her visit. She planned to speak with them individually, Mac first, and asked for a place to do so. Jack silently gestured toward his office.

His already high stress level had leaped about a thousand-fold when Mac shuffled a little closer to him, naked fear in the one eye that was fully open.

“I…should get him some ice for that.” Jack pointed. “He—” Just in time, he stopped himself from saying what had happened. Mac could do that himself, and it would be better coming from him than if he repeated what Jack had just said.

“I can do that,” Ms. Sparrows said, not unkindly. “Come along, Angus.”

Mac didn’t correct her with his preferred name, of course, merely turning to follow meekly, but he cast a longing look at Jack. Jack wanted nothing more than to grab him up and assure him that things would be fine, but he didn’t think whispering in the teen’s ear was their best strategy at the moment. He tried to offer the kid an encouraging smile instead.

And then his stress level rose impossibly higher.

“I have a note from your physician that you have been tracking your weight. Do you have those records with you?”

The door shut behind them before Jack could hear Mac’s answer, but he didn’t need to. He knew the kid had some sort of app on his phone and that he was faithfully, if reluctantly, entering his weight every few days. Jack had purchased a new bathroom scale but otherwise had stayed out of the process, not wanting to give the kid a complex or something. Mac didn’t need his dad hovering over him while he weighed himself. Jack had asked a couple times but had quickly abandoned that as well, not wanting to frustrate either of them by the slow progress.

Mac had shyly shared when he’d gained a pound, and the resulting celebration emboldened him enough to repeat the announcement the next time, and the next. And Jack was genuinely proud of the teen, not only for working toward a healthy weight but also for sharing milestones.

Three pounds was unlikely to impress Ms. Sparrows.

Jack fretted as he began brushing Crosby. He wasn’t sure why it was so hard for Mac to gain weight. He ate voraciously, and sure, he was extremely active and helped a lot at the stables, but he also sat still for several hours at school, so he wouldn’t be burning a lot of calories then. At least, Jack assumed he was sitting still. Maybe all that fidgeting he did took more energy than Jack thought.

What if Mac was fidgeting in there when Ms. Sparrows asked him questions? She would probably take that as a sign he was lying. And between the newest injury, the minimal weight gain, and whatever else she could think up…

Maybe she’d take Mac away from him.

Crosby snorted in displeasure when Jack sagged back against the wall, the hand holding the brush dropping to his side.

That couldn’t happen. He—he couldn’t live without Mac. Now that he’d had a taste of having a son, of having _Mac_ in his home, under his care…he couldn’t go back.

But was his care really good enough?

This wasn’t the first time Mac had been injured while working. The kid was kind of a klutz, all lanky arms and legs that didn’t seem to move the way his brain wanted them to.

Maybe it was a mistake to let Mac in the stable at all.

Jack began cursing himself. How had he ever believed he was fit to be a father? What did he know about raising a kid? He knew horses; that was it. Mac probably needed more than being fed and watered and exercised. Jack didn’t even do that last one very well, only occasionally shooting hoops with the teen in the evenings, usually too tired after a long day of work to suggest it. And of course, the still-uncertain Mac never initiated a game.

Stupid. He’d gotten his hopes up, thought maybe Mac would really be his, had made all kinds of promises to the kid that he might not be able to keep. They could say he was unqualified. Unfit to be a father. Unsuitable for Mac. Unacceptable.

No, they wouldn’t really take the kid away…would they? He could do better. Hell, he’d sell the stable if he needed to, find a different line of work. Something that had more regular hours. Something that didn’t give Mac an opportunity to get hurt.

He’d feed the kid more. He already pushed meals and snacks on him every chance he got, but he would talk to Dr. Buddhdev about the most nutrient-dense foods, ones that would help Mac gain weight faster.

And he’d wrap the boy in bubble wrap if that was what it took to protect him from his own clumsiness. He’d keep Mac safe. He _would_.

He just needed another chance.

~~~

Ms. Sparrows took in the office with a swift glance, went straight to the minifridge, and found an icepack in the small freezer compartment. She wrapped it in a clean-looking towel and brought it over to Mac.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Mac tried to keep his voice and his hand from shaking as he brought the cloth up to his eye. With his other hand, he offered the social worker his phone, his vital statistics already pulled up.

She scrolled through them briefly. “I see you’ve gained three pounds.” Her voice was completely neutral, and Mac couldn’t tell if she thought that was good or bad.

“Three pounds, two ounces,” he corrected, as if that would make a difference.

She nodded, marking something in her little notebook. “Three-point-two pounds.”

“It’s actually three-point-one-two-five. Two-sixteenths—” Mac halted abruptly, blushing. “Sorry.”

“Quite all right.” Ms. Sparrows sounded a little amused, and Mac was hopeful he hadn’t offended her. All he needed was for her to think he was rude.

“I’m eating a lot,” he said in a rush, nervous at her silence.

“Oh?”

“Y-yeah. Um, breakfast in—in the morning. I mean, of course in the morning. That’s when breakfast is. And lunch at school. Except when there isn’t school. Like…weekends. There isn’t school on weekends.”

Mac wasn’t sure when his brain had disconnected from his mouth. He attempted to regain control.

“And…you know…after school. Dinner. At home. Or sometimes at Larry’s. Or somewhere. Not that we eat out a lot. Um, but not that we _don’t_ do it a lot. Just—the normal amount. I mean, what’s normal? Ha ha. Average. You know…”

So much for regaining control.

“Angus, relax.” Ms. Sparrows apparently decided to intervene before the boy spiraled further. “Don’t worry what I’m thinking. Just tell me the truth.”

“I am!” Mac nearly shouted, fast enough that his social worker’s eyebrows rose. He lowered his voice. “Sorry. I am. I—Jack says not to lie. It’s a rule.” He hoped she would be impressed that Jack had created some rules, something she’d suggested during her last visit.

“Hmm.” Ms. Sparrows was looking back down at her notebook, pen still moving busily. “And what happens if you do lie?”

Mac’s mind went blank. He didn’t think he and Jack had discussed that, and he couldn’t immediately come up with a plausible idea. “Uh…”

She glanced up at his non-answer, and Mac panicked when her gaze landed on the icepack still covering his eye.

“Not this! Jack didn’t do this!”

She merely raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“He didn’t! He would _never_. I—I just tripped. He wasn’t even anywhere near me.”

Ms. Sparrows made a noncommittal sound. “Do you believe your working conditions are adequately safe?”

Mac was still terrified, but he felt fury welling too. Yes, Ms. Sparrows probably had the power to take him away, to refuse to let him live with Jack, to become Jack’s son. But that didn’t give her the right to assume the worst of the man who had been nothing but good to a kid who had no real claim on his time or energy but who received it anyway.

He dropped the icepack so he could look her straight in the eye.

“My working conditions are perfectly safe,” he hissed, unable to keep the edge of anger out of his voice. “No one could keep me from being clumsy. And Jack never lets me do any of the dangerous stuff. Not that it’s really dangerous,” he added hastily. “But Jack doesn’t—doesn’t take chances with—with my safety. He loves me.”

It was the first time he had said that to another person, and the words felt odd leaving his mouth. Not bad, not false, but…private. As though he were sharing an intimate secret. And he hated that someone else had the authority to pry into their personal relationship and to _judge_ it.

Ms. Sparrows made another one of those humming sounds that could have meant anything. Mac assumed she wanted more proof.

“He does,” he insisted, voice a little softer now. “He tells me every day. And—and he takes care of me. Like, really. He makes me breakfast and packs a lunch for me, and he always gives me a snack after school before dinner. And he—he asks how I sleep, and he doesn’t mind if I use up all the hot water when I shower, and he—he got me new shoes because my old ones had holes in them.”

Ms. Sparrows had stopped writing and was just watching Mac.

“And he asks if I did my homework, and he—he likes to meet my friends, and…he _listens_ to me.”

She tilted her head, and Mac rushed into speech again.

“When you came in…I know it looked like he was yelling, but…he was just worried. Because I tripped. And I wasn’t going to say anything, so he only came over to find out why Pepper was upset, and he—he doesn’t like it when I hide injuries from him.” Mac chewed on his lip. “I didn’t know it was that bad. But he—he wouldn’t hit me. He would _never_ hurt me.” Mac suddenly realized he was standing, waving his arms emphatically, needing to impress the words onto his social worker. “If you hadn’t come in, he would have gotten the ice himself, and probably made me sit down, and—and he’d ask me to promise to tell him if I tripped again, even if I think it isn’t bad. He wouldn’t be mad.”

“You…sound very certain,” Ms. Sparrows said mildly.

“I am. I _know_ Jack. He’s good and decent and caring and kind, and—” Mac took a deep breath. “He loves me. And he’s the best dad I could ever ask for.”

“Well.” Ms. Sparrows stood, seemingly unaffected by Mac’s impassioned speech. “Thank you for your time, Angus. I appreciate your candor. I will speak with your guardian now and submit my report to the judge later this week.”

It was fatally anticlimactic, but Mac was grateful to be able to leave. He really wanted to see Jack.

“Angus.”

He turned back, hand on the office door.

“Remember that I will perform another surprise inspection, at your home next time.”

Mac nodded silently, wondering at the toneless statement. Was it a threat? A warning? A promise?

“That is what is required before the adoption can be finalized.” She gave him the tiniest fleeting smile before looking back down at her notebook.

Mac’s jaw dropped, and it was fully five seconds before he could open the door and walk out.

But she had given him hope.

~~~

Jack thought he probably shouldn’t talk to Mac before going in to see Ms. Sparrows, not wanting to give her the idea that they were coordinating stories or something ridiculous like that. But when Mac emerged from the office, eyes immediately seeking Jack and silently begging, Jack thought, _Screw that_. He opened his arms for his kid, pulling him close and breathing in the scent of sweaty teenage boy that he’d never known could be so comforting.

They didn’t speak for a few minutes, but Ms. Sparrows didn’t come out of the office to reprimand them, so Jack figured she didn’t care if they took a little time to themselves.

“Hey,” Jack whispered into his kid’s hair. “I love you, remember?”

Mac nodded without looking up. “Completely,” he said into Jack’s shirt.

“Forever.”

“No matter what.” Mac’s voice trembled slightly on the words.

“Yeah. No matter what.” Jack was rubbing soothing circles on the teen’s back, but he could feel his hands shaking as he did so. “No matter what Ms. Sparrows says. No matter what the judge says. You’re my son. You’ll always be my son.”

Mac hugged him more tightly.

“Hey, kid, you got a passport?”

“What?” Mac’s head snapped up at the unexpected question.

“A passport,” Jack repeated patiently. “You know, it’s so you can travel—”

“I know what a passport is, Jack.” Mac shook his head. His guardian was already perfectly aware he didn’t have one, that he’d never traveled outside the state before, much less outside the country. “Why—” His eyes narrowed. “Are you thinking of—of—”

“That’s all right. USA’s a big place. Almost three million square miles that’re totally uninhabited.”

Mac cocked his head. His dad-in-all-but-name knew the oddest things.

Jack smiled down at him gently. “Just getting ready for all eventides.”

“You mean _eventualities_?”

“Never hurts to be prepared, right?”

“So…” Mac blinked, shocked into near speechlessness. “You’d…you’d leave the—”

“On the run with you is better than an empty house without you,” Jack stated as though it were an immutable fact of life.

Maybe for Jack, it was.

“Jack, you can’t—”

“Don’t worry, I’ve had plenty of wilderness survival training. And you can pretty much make a helicopter outta two coconuts or somethin’, so—”

“Jack, we can’t—”

“Hey.” Jack took the kid’s face in both hands. “I am not lettin’ you go back, you hear me? You’re stuck with me. And if that means buggin’ out—well, they won’t catch me and you. I promise you that.”

Mac couldn’t tear his gaze away from Jack’s, sincerity and fierce protectiveness shining in the man’s eyes and wrapping the teen in warmth. “Okay, Jack,” he agreed softly.

“Okay.” Jack let out a breath and pulled Mac close again.

“Mr. Dalton?”

Apparently the social worker was tired of waiting.

“That’s my cue, kid.” The two reluctantly released each other. “I’ll be back in a few. Try not to hurt yourself while I’m gone, okay?”

Mac flushed.

Jack looked over at Pepper. “You’re in charge. Watch out for him, all right?”

“You’re putting a _horse_ in charge? Of _me_?”

Jack grinned at the indignation in the boy’s tone. “Well, I don’t have a proper babysitter for you yet. I’ll have to get on that.” He chuckled at Mac’s sputtering. “’Sides…hate to tell you this, but Pepper’s really in charge of all of us. She just lets us think otherwise sometimes.”

Mac sobered, looking thoughtful. “That’s…kind of true.”

“’Course it is. How ‘bout you give her some carrots and attention ‘til I get back?”

Mac heard the unspoken message, and though he frowned—he _was_ capable of working unsupervised without injuring himself—he nodded.

Jack took a deep breath, squeezed Mac’s shoulder, and marched into the office, closing the door gently behind him.

~~~

Jack was prepared for a combative meeting, a lecture on all the ways he needed to improve his parenting, a not-so-gentle line of questioning designed to lay bare all his faults.

In their two previous meetings, Ms. Sparrows had never been anything less than professional, but she’d also never seen Jack’s hands on Mac’s injured face before. And he’d always had the gut feeling that the mild-mannered social worker would defend the children she oversaw like an enraged lioness if it came to it. The woman was all of five-foot-nothing and probably weighed less than the hay bale Mac had tripped over, but Jack still wouldn’t like to tangle with her if it were a question of a child’s safety.

He respected that.

He wasn’t prepared for the social worker looking at him with a new expression, something warmer than her usual calm mask.

“Ms. Sparrows,” he said neutrally, taking a seat across from her.

“Mr. Dalton.” She gave him a hint of a smile. “Angus was extremely…enlightening.”

Jack felt his heart thud to a stop. _What the hell did that mean?_ “Oh?” he managed.

She tilted her head, appearing almost sympathetic. “I do believe him when he says he tripped.”

Jack still couldn’t manage to take a full breath. “Yeah, he—” He cut himself off before he could mention Mac’s klutziness.

“He said that you do not let him do anything dangerous.” It was phrased as a statement, but it sounded like a question.

“I don’t. Not—not that there’s a lot of danger. Just…working with animals, you know. They’re—he mostly—I’ll sell the place if I have to,” Jack blurted without thinking.

The social worker’s eyebrows rose.

“If that’s what it takes to—for the adoption. I’ll find another line of work.”

“It has hardly come to that, Mr. Dalton,” Ms. Sparrows demurred.

“Well, if it _does_, you tell…whoever needs to know. I’ll change whatever I have to. I’ll take care of him. I promised.”

“Hmm.”

“He’s not going back to his—to James MacGyver.” Jack found himself standing, fists clenched in an effort to keep his arms by his sides. “He isn’t. I—he—that can’t happen.”

Ms. Sparrows cocked her head curiously. “Is there something you would like to say, Mr. Dalton? There have been no reports filed that would indicate Mr. MacGyver is unfit as a parent.”

If Jack had had the air to do so, he would have laughed sardonically.

Ms. Sparrows was still watching him. “I have wondered what prompted you to request this adoption. I gather you have only known Angus for a little over a year, and from what I understand, you are not a family friend.”

Jack bit back his instinctive replies. He was certainly no friend to James, but he had promised Mac he wouldn’t have the man arrested unless there were no alternative.

“I was _prompted_ to request this adoption because I want Mac to be my son,” he said finally, voice a bit harsher than was strictly necessary.

Her expression didn’t change. “You have never raised children before, is that correct?”

She knew perfectly well that it was. He mentally cursed but managed to keep his tone even.

“No. But I’m going to—I _am_ doing my best with Mac. He’s—he deserves the best.” Jack choked on his words. “And—and maybe that isn’t me, but—man, I _love_ that kid. I love him so much.” He looked at the social worker pleadingly. “I will do anything—_anything_ for him. You just tell me what to change, and I will. I swear I will.”

She frowned, and Jack rushed into speech before she could say anything.

“I’ll make sure he eats more. I’ll talk to his doctor about him gainin’ weight. I won’t let him work in the stables anymore. I’ll—”

“Mr. Dalton,” Ms. Sparrows interrupted before Jack could vow to make Mac wear a helmet at all times to protect him from his own clumsiness. “Your sincerity is touching, but such drastic measures are hardly necessary.”

“W-What?”

“I have already seen a change in Angus since my last visit.”

Jack just stared at her, mouth open, as she stood so she didn’t have to tilt her head back quite so far to look him in the eye.

“He appears healthier already. He has gained three-point-t—” She shook her head, smiling to herself. “Three-point-one-two-five pounds, which demonstrates that he is heading in the right direction. And he seems better rested, more at ease. He doesn’t flinch as much as he did.”

Jack thought about that, surprised that the gradual progression was enough for her to notice the changes.

“And…” Ms. Sparrows is smiling now. “He is far more confident than the last time I saw him. He is much more willing to stand up for what he believes in.”

“He…does that,” Jack agreed slowly.

Ms. Sparrows picked up her briefcase and tucked her notebook neatly inside. “He believes in _you_, Mr. Dalton.” She headed for the door. “Which means for right now, so do I.”

“Does that mean—” Jack wasn’t sure how he wanted to finish that question.

“There will be one further surprise inspection, at your home next time.” Ms. Sparrows looked back, her tone almost approving. “I look forward to seeing you and your son again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I couldn't resist, there is a sort of _Gilligan's Island_-adjacent reference and a tiny quote from Jake Bugg's [**Me and You**](https://youtu.be/X5aCgnh6Bjs).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to fran_22 and bkworm4life4 who suggested a chapter for the social worker's home visit and asked for an explosion in Mac's lab. It's not a huge explosion, but I hope this is enjoyable anyway!
> 
> WARNINGS: moderate anxiety, tiniest hint of danger from a small explosion and lack of proper safety procedures in the lab, unintentional child endangerment (because of lack of safety protocols), handwavy science, possible inaccuracies with California adoption law

Jack had read the state’s bylaws on adoption cover-to-cover. Well, okay, he’d skimmed the sections that didn’t seem to apply, like the ones talking about infant adoption or adoption from overseas. When he couldn’t sleep, he’d tortured himself by trawling online through stories of adoptions that had fallen through at the last possible moment. That the majority of those tales involved biological parents refusing to allow the adoption to take place did not help one bit.

But nothing that he’d read or seen had mentioned what happened if your kid blew up the house the day the social worker arrived.

Jack nearly shoved Ms. Sparrows to the ground in his haste to reach the lab, not even registering her presence as he dashed down the basement stairs, calling for Mac over the sound of the smoke detector screaming. That was probably their second strike.

“Kid! Mac, answer me! Where are you?”

Jack drew in a sharp breath when a slim figure arose from the wreckage and began weaving unsteadily toward him. This turned out to be a mistake, as Jack inhaled a lungful of smoke and began coughing in time with Mac’s coughing.

The two supported each other at the bottom of the stairs while they hacked up their lungs for a few minutes.

“You okay?” Jack asked hoarsely, eyes watering, as the piercing shriek of the smoke alarm finally died away.

“Yeah.” Mac waved a hand in the air, noticing the smoke was already clearing thanks to the window he’d opened prior to this experiment. He realized he had been so excited to see the sodium-and-potassium alloy explode in water that he hadn’t thought through any safety concerns. He winced at the sight of his sooty fingers and tried not to reach up and rub his eyes.

“Really?” Jack sounded skeptical as he used a thumb to rub the smoke-induced tear tracks from his kid’s face.

“Really, I’m fine. It—it wasn’t concussive. I mean, not much. Just a beaker. And…” Mac gestured lamely. “Smoky.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed dryly. “And loud enough to scare Ms. Sparrows practically outta her socks.”

Mac’s head snapped back. “Ms. Sparrows is here?”

“Yep.” Jack grimaced. “We got the best timing, don’t we, kid?”

Mac was already pelting up the stairs. “And she heard?”

“No one coulda missed it, buddy.”

“This is bad,” Mac muttered, barely loud enough for his guardian to hear. “She’ll think—” He wheeled around. “What should we say?”

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “Any ideas?”

“I don’t know. Maybe—quick, yell at me.” Mac didn’t want to give Ms. Sparrows the opportunity to think Jack had condoned this particular project.

Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t think that’d help our case, hoss.”

At the moment, Mac couldn’t even think about the adoption. All he could see were the child-endangerment charges hovering in the air, and he couldn’t—he _couldn’t_—let even the accusation be leveled against Jack. “What do you mean, I have to go to my room?” he nearly bellowed as he reached the top of the stairs, eyes flicking over to their social worker, who was, he noticed, already inspecting the kitchen and making checkmarks in her little notebook. “You never let me do anything dangerous. It’s not fair!”

If Jack hadn’t been so worried, he would have either laughed or sighed at the kid’s antics. Mac was no actor. His lines were delivered with intelligent desperation, not the whiny teenager he’d apparently been attempting to imitate.

Jack decided to ignore the wannabe thespian. “Ms. Sparrows.” He approached the petite woman. “Sorry about that little dust-up. Are you all right?”

“Just a bit surprised is all,” she assured him. “What—”

“Ms. Sparrows!” Mac feigned astonishment at seeing her. “Hello! When did you get here?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Kid—”

“I—I’m sorry about the mess,” Mac continued, gesturing vaguely at his ash-covered clothing. “Um, guess that’s why it’s called a surprise visit, huh?” He chuckled weakly.

Mac was perfect in every way, Jack thought, and he wouldn’t trade him for the world, wouldn’t change one thing about him. But at this exact moment, he wished he _were_ adopting an infant. At least a baby wouldn’t collapse into a flailing mess in the presence of the one person they wanted to impress. Jack had never seen Mac as discombobulated as he was around Ms. Sparrows.

“What were you doing?” Ms. Sparrows was skilled at maintaining a distant tone even when she appeared curious at the same time.

“Jack didn’t know about it! He—um—I mean, I—I got the sodium and potassium and—and was messing around—” Mac realized this could be construed as Jack not paying enough attention to him. “I—I had to sneak it past him because—”

“Mac.” Jack couldn’t take much more of the hole the kid was digging, apparently determined to bury himself so Jack couldn’t be pushed in. “We made the kid a lab when we moved in. It’s not in the best shape at the moment, but the smoke’s probably mostly cleared. Would you like to see it?”

“I would,” Ms. Sparrows replied instantly. She followed Jack to the stairs. “A lab, you say?”

“Kid likes science,” Jack shrugged. “Geniuses gotta have someplace safe to experiment.” He winced as the word _safe_ passed his lips. “I guess we—um—we gotta talk about—uh—”

“Jack makes me wear goggles,” Mac piped up, trailing miserably behind the two adults into his sanctum.

Jack shot him a look because first of all, he hadn’t seen any evidence of protective equipment when he’d barreled downstairs to find the kid, and secondly, although he’d provided a set of safety goggles, he’d never instituted any rules about them. He’d sort of figured Mac knew more about that kind of thing than he did.

Mac shifted anxiously from one foot to the other as Ms. Sparrows took her time looking around.

“This is…an impressive layout,” Ms. Sparrows finally said neutrally.

Almost-father and son exchanged a look at her unreadable expression.

“I…thought it would be good for him. You know, like a playpen for a baby genius.” Jack’s attempt at humor fell flat. “He’s—usually real good about—uh—not blowin’ stuff up.”

“It isn’t Jack’s fault.” Mac shuffled closer to his guardian as he spoke in a tiny voice.

Ms. Sparrows lifted one eyebrow. “I’m not assigning blame, Angus.”

“Einstein blew up his lab once,” Jack offered. “And, you know, he won a Nobel Prize. Uh, not for that, though. For…something else.”

“The law of the photoelectric effect,” Mac provided, _sotto voce_.

“Right. Photos and electricity. So…” Jack trailed off, shrugging.

Since Ms. Sparrows didn’t appear in a hurry to have Jack arrested or anything, the adoption came roaring back to the front of Mac’s mind. “We can—get rid of all this. Seal it off. I—I don’t need a lab. Jack was just…” He hesitated, thinking. “He’s really good to me.” He glanced over at their social worker to check her reaction. “He’s a great dad.”

“Hmm.” Ms. Sparrows hummed in that way that unnerved Mac more than anything else.

“He is!” Mac felt a hand on his arm before he could launch into a desperate diatribe extolling Jack’s virtues.

“It’s okay, son,” Jack murmured, tugging until Mac was at his side once more. “Just relax.”

“Jack,” Mac whispered, turning pleading eyes on his guardian.

“She’s seen your grades, kiddo. Talked to your school, too. She’s knows how smart you are with all that science stuff.” Jack raised his voice so Ms. Sparrows, now on the other side of the room taking photos, could hear. “I can pull up Mac’s current info on the school thingamabob.”

“Online portal,” Mac provided quietly.

“Yeah, that. Amazing system. I can see all his grades, and sometimes upcoming projects, and his attendance and stuff…” Jack trailed off when Ms. Sparrows didn’t respond. He’d felt pretty sure of where they stood with her prior to this visit, but now…

“Kid’s right, you know. We can get rid of all this.” Jack felt Mac’s hand latch onto his, and his heart stuttered. The kid had never reached for him like that in front of another person. He must be terrified.

Ms. Sparrows didn’t seem to notice their babbling. “What’s this?” she asked, stopping in front of a project that, to Jack, looked like a freakish hunk of metal balanced precariously on a domed base.

Mac glanced at Jack before answering but received no direction, so he turned back to their social worker. “It’s—it’s a mechanical sunflower. You know, if I can get it to work. Photovoltaic panels that track the movement of the sun. To, um, be more efficient.” He didn’t realize how hard he was squeezing Jack’s hand until he felt Jack’s other hand on his arm.

“Can you show me how it works?”

Mac’s jaw dropped. “Really?”

Ms. Sparrows just lifted her eyebrows, and Mac blushed and hurried over to the workspace. Jack, suddenly released from the kid’s death grip, followed more slowly.

“It’s not finished yet,” Mac said earnestly, already poking and adjusting tiny parts of his creation. “But just—proof of concept. I’ll get an incandescent light later, but I’m just using LEDs now.” He held up a flashlight and aimed it at the top of the metal orb. “Full-spectrum light will be a little different, of course, but you can see that if the source of light moves—” He slowly waved the flashlight back and forth. “—the panels follow.”

Jack thought he might burst with pride. He fumbled with his phone and discreetly snapped a photo, careful to get the hyper-focused Mac and the openly impressed Ms. Sparrows in the shot. He’d show that one to the kid later.

“That is…quite remarkable,” Ms. Sparrows finally managed.

Jack could keep silent no longer. “What’d I tell you?” he bragged, throwing an arm around Mac’s shoulders. “Kid’s a genius.” He nudged the boy. “Hey, why didn’t you tell me you needed one of them can-can-dancing lights?” he reproved gently.

Mac tipped his head back to give Jack the full benefit of his eyeroll. “Incandescent. It’s not all the way ready, so I don’t need it yet.” He stiffened as he recalled their social worker’s presence. “Or—you know, it’s not that important. I really don’t need a lab at all. Really.” In the weeks since they’d moved into the new house, Mac had been having a blast—usually only figuratively—in the space set aside just for him. But he’d give it up in a heartbeat if the alternative was being taken away from Jack.

“You seem to be making good use of it,” Ms. Sparrows said briskly, her tone just a shade warmer than neutral. “I believe I am ready to see the rest of the house.”

Mac followed numbly as Jack showed her around, the social worker meticulously checking outlets and smoke detectors and opening and closing windows. Jack pulled up Mac’s school information on his laptop, and she glanced at it courteously but made only one mark in her notebook. The longer she was there, the more nervous Mac became. He wracked his brain to think of what other pitfalls might be lying around the house so he could fix them before she got there, but his thinking was sluggish, as though he were swimming through molasses.

Jack picked up on his stress, his quips to the unresponsive Ms. Sparrows becoming more forced and gradually dying out altogether. He kept an arm tightly around his kid, which made it a little hard to walk, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was keeping Mac with him.

Somewhere along the way, Jack directed the kid toward the bathroom, quietly urging him to clean up. When Mac caught sight of his grimy face and hair, he winced. Jack had a point. He probably wasn’t helping their case looking like that and constantly reminding Ms. Sparrows of his little lab mishap. He thought about just jumping in the shower but irrationally didn’t want to leave Jack on his own with the social worker for too long, so he settled for scrubbing with a washcloth as fast as he could.

When he reemerged, he found the two adults back in the kitchen, this time apparently cataloguing the available food in the house while Jack listed everything Mac had eaten today. It still freaked him out a little that his soon-to-be-dad had near-perfect recall when it came to things like Mac’s eating habits, or his likes and dislikes, or things he’d mentioned in passing that his friends or teachers had said. From what he could tell, Jack Dalton was not known for being the world’s best listener.

But with Mac, he was.

“Mm-hm.” Ms. Sparrows was scribbling and nodding along as Jack rambled.

“Hey, kiddo!” Jack interrupted his overly detailed description of the omelet Mac had eaten this morning to wave the kid over. “Just talkin’ about you.”

Mac half-smiled timidly in their social worker’s direction.

“’Course, nothin’ new about that, is there? What else do I talk about?” Jack’s laugh, while less boisterous than usual, was at least genuine, and Mac surmised that things had been going well while he’d been in the bathroom. “Hey, you missed a spot.”

“Jack!” Mac exclaimed in horror when the man _licked_ his thumb and rubbed at the teen’s jaw. Any other time, Mac would have batted his hand away immediately, but he didn’t dare engage in their playful wrestling in front of Ms. Sparrows. “That’s so gross!” he hissed.

Jack ignored him. “There you go. Cleans up nice, don’t he?” He turned back to Ms. Sparrows, gesturing at Mac as if showing off a trophy.

And Mac understood. Last time their social worker visited, she’d caught them just as Jack’s hands were on Mac’s injured face, one gripping the boy’s chin and the other delicately probing around his eye. Mac had been attempting to shove Jack away, embarrassed both about falling and about worrying his guardian for what was almost certainly nothing. Sure, his eye hurt a little, but it was probably fine. No reason to pull Jack away from the work he was doing.

But when Ms. Sparrows walked in, suddenly everything about the situation changed. They both realized in an instant how it would look. Mac knew that moment still weighed on Jack’s mind because he sometimes cupped the kid’s cheek in one hand and tenderly smoothed a thumb along his eyebrow and over the fully healed skin under his eye. So now he was not-so-subtly showing Ms. Sparrows that Mac bore no marks, had no bruises.

Maybe the visit wasn’t going as well as Mac had hoped.

“I’ve been really careful at work.”

Both adults turned to him in surprise at the random announcement.

Mac nodded rapidly several times. “Because—you know—I’m kind of clumsy, but—well, I’ve been careful.” He tried to think of an example, and nothing springing to mind, he invented one. “Like, one time Crosby—he’s one of the boarders—was kind of skittish, you know, and I was going to exercise him, but I thought—Jack always says to be careful, and I know I should listen because he—he wants what’s best for me. So I—didn’t. Exercise Crosby. I told Jack about it.” He paused to take in the distinctly unimpressed expression on their social worker’s face, missing Jack gaping, stunned, at this completely made-up story.

Mac clearly needed to add more if he wanted to make an impact. “It turned out that Crosby had a pebble caught in his shoe, and—”

“Mac.” Jack couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled the kid close and wrapped both arms around him, gently stroking his back. “Whoa, kid. It’s okay.”

Mac shook his head against Jack’s shoulder.

“Hey, hey.” Jack kept his voice low, but he didn’t try to pitch it so Ms. Sparrows couldn’t hear, worried about appearing to have secrets from her. “You remember what we talked about? About the truth?”

A tiny noise escaped the teen as he stiffened.

“Remember what the truth is, bud?”

“What—what really happened.” Mac took a shaky breath. “Not what I think you want to hear.”

“That’s right,” Jack breathed. He squeezed his kid tightly before shifting him so his back was to Jack’s chest. He kept an arm across the teen’s chest, open palm settled over Mac’s heart. “It’s okay.”

Mac flushed and mumbled something toward the floor before recalling himself and looking their social worker in the eye. “I—I apologize. That story wasn’t—true.”

Ms. Sparrows had her head cocked to one side.

“I shouldn’t have lied to you, and—and I’m sorry.” Mac’s fingers twitched toward Jack’s that were still splayed across his sternum, but he forced his hand back down to his side. “I just wanted you to think—to know what a great dad Jack is.”

“Thank you for that, Angus,” Ms. Sparrows said almost approvingly.

But Mac was listening to the whisper in his ear. “You did good, son. I’m proud of you.”

Ms. Sparrows closed her notebook. “I think I have seen everything I need. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Mac stifled a quiet gasp at the same time Jack’s arms tightened around him.

Jack’s voice was normal, however. “We sure do appreciate you takin’ the time to come,” he said, as if Ms. Sparrows were a plumber making a late-night emergency visit. “Always a pleasure.” This sounded practically sincere, like she was a friend instead of the person sent to investigate them.

She merely nodded in return, but the corners of her lips twitched slightly as though in amusement.

Mac ripped out of Jack’s grasp as Ms. Sparrows headed for the door. “Ma’am?”

She stopped and turned.

“What—what are you—” Mac felt Jack approaching from behind, a warning hand landing on his shoulder, but he had to know. “You’re going to let me stay with Jack, aren’t you?” he blurted, fixing Ms. Sparrows with a pleading look.

She turned to face the teen fully, her expression soft. “I don’t make that decisions, Angus. I’m only here to ensure your wellbeing and to make a recommendation.”

“What—” Mac couldn’t force out the rest of his question. Jack had fallen completely silent behind him, holding his breath as he, too, waited to hear what Ms. Sparrows would say.

“My recommendation will always be that you are in the best environment possible,” she said kindly.

Mac opened his mouth, but no words came out. He took a step back until he collided with Jack, who immediately folded his arms around the kid once again.

Ms. Sparrows smiled. “Unless you can think of somewhere better, I suspect living with Mr. Dalton is what’s best for you. Don’t you agree?”

There was a beat of silence.

“Yes!” Mac shouted, surprising both adults. “Yes, yes!”

“Very well.” Ms. Sparrows turned back toward the door. “Then the court shall receive that recommendation. I wish you both well.” As she stepped outside, she paused, and was it a trick of the light, or did she actually _wink_ at Mac? “And perhaps try not to cause further explosions in the future.” And then she was gone.

Mac and Jack stood in shock for a few minutes, looking between the door and each other.

Then Jack’s face split in a grin. “Mac!” He raised his arms and pumped his fists in the air like a boxing champion. “You’re gonna be mine!”

Mac threw back his head and laughed, free and loud and slightly hysterical. And then Jack was laughing too, and they had joined hands and were leaping in dizzying circles, faster and wilder, Jack hooting and singing in turns, Mac’s eyes clenched shut against the oncoming tears of joy.

Their mad whirling crashed them into a wall, and they stumbled to a halt, still giggling uncontrollably.

“Mine,” Jack managed, still laughing. “My son.”

Mac beamed. “My dad.”

“Lemme—lemme get a picture.” Jack scrabbled for his phone as he wiped at the tears rolling down his face.

“A picture?” Mac was too deliriously happy to protest as he was shoved into position in front of Jack, the screen wavering in Jack’s unsteady hand.

“Gotta—gotta monetize the moment, right?” Jack struggled to stop chuckling long enough to aim the camera.

“Memorialize?”

“Smile,” Jack commanded, as if they weren’t already wearing ear-to-ear grins. The camera clicked. “First official father-son photo!” He spoke with immense satisfaction.

Mac shook his head but didn’t try to move away from where he was squished into Jack’s shoulder. “It isn’t official yet.”

“Yeah, but it will be. No one’s gonna argue with Ms. Sparrows, right?”

Mac was afraid to pin all his hopes on anything less than a sure thing, but he had to admit it seemed unlikely. For once, maybe the odds were in his favor.

“Nothin’s gonna stop me from bein’ your dad,” Jack vowed, eyes softer but still glowing.

“I know, Jack.” Mac twisted so he could wrap his arms around his very-soon-to-be dad’s torso. He well remembered Jack’s promise to essentially kidnap him if things didn’t go their way in court. He let the giddiness pool in his stomach again. “You’re my dad. For real.”

“Yep.” Jack smothered his laughter in his son’s hair. He felt a surge of gratitude for Ms. Sparrows, who saw past the unfortunate accidents that seemed to plague their little family, saw past Mac’s anxious rambling, saw past Jack’s rollercoaster of bravado and fear. She saw the truth.

The truth was that they belonged together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to the brilliant slightly_ajar for the "kid likes science" line! :)
> 
> This is the very cool [**lab explosion**](https://www.newscientist.com/article/2100471-watch-a-classic-chemistry-lab-explosion-tamed-to-run-in-slow-mo/) (watch the 1-minute video!) I was thinking of as I was writing what happened in Mac's lab. Is it feasible in this case? I have no idea. Let's pretend, shall we?


End file.
